


Maneuvers

by anthean



Category: Points - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean
Summary: Eslingen introduces Rathe to a colleague.





	Maneuvers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie_Quite_Contrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie_Quite_Contrary/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, callie_quite_contrary! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for one of my favorite book series. I really enjoyed it.

“They’re quartering you in a barracks?” Rathe had said when Eslingen had proposed showing him around the City Guard’s new facilities.

“ _I’m_ not sleeping there,” Eslingen replies, setting his morning mug of tea down on their scarred old table and carefully not commenting on Rathe’s avoidance of his question. Rathe smiles and nods, acknowledging the hit. “It makes sense,” Eslingen continues. “Everything we need is there already. Sleeping quarters, practice yards, stables.”

Rathe doesn’t look entirely convinced. Although the official announcement of the formation of the City Guard had largely silenced his protests, Eslingen knew that Rathe was still wary. He was wary himself, come to that. The harmony between the points and the Guard was more theoretical than practical at this early stage; although he hoped everyone involved was willing to minimize the squabbling he wasn’t naïve enough to think that the transition would be entirely smooth.

And Rathe still hadn’t answered his question. “Just a short visit,” Eslingen says, trying hard to keep it a statement. “Besides, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh?” Rathe says. “Well, in that case,” and he picks his shapeless coat from the back of the chair.

The morning is bright and crisp, not hot enough yet to make walking tedious, so they set off on foot. It’s a long walk to the Guard’s barracks at the edge of the city, but Eslingen is in a good mood, walking through the city with his leman on their felicitously concurrent day off, and Rathe doesn’t seem to mind the walk either. Eslingen buys a sweet pastry from a cart on the way, and they share it as they walk, talking of nothing and enjoying the morning.

When they reach the barracks the guardswoman at the gate waves him through with a grin—more casually than he’d like, but he vaguely knows her from the regiment and she obviously recognizes both him and Rathe. He makes a note to speak with her later and takes Rathe’s arm to steer him away from the main administrative building, where he’d turned by habit.

“Oh no,” Eslingen says. “Did you think we were coming here to make nice with the brass? On such a fine day as this? I wouldn’t do that to you.” He sets Rathe’s arm in the crook of his elbow with all the assumed grace of his counterfeit title and sets off at a stroll.

“Ah,” Rathe says, falling into step. “I see what this is. This is just you and your leman, out together on your day off, conspicuously taking a tour of the City Guard grounds together in perfect accord and harmony.” Rathe frowns a little; Eslingen knows how much he dislikes playing politics, especially when he feels manipulated.

“Is that all right?” Eslingen asks. He looks at Rather out of the corner of his eye. “I do want you to see the grounds, but if you’d rather we go…”

“No, it’s all right,” Rathe says. “But Captain—” and Eslingen smiles to hear his new rank in his leman’s mouth—“you need some new tricks. I feel sure you’ve used this one before.”

“You wound me, Adjunct Point.”

“I suspect you’ll recover.”

In deference to Rathe’s preferences, Eslingen doesn’t linger in the courtyard, although he’s already noticed several curious faces taking note of their visit. That will have to be enough: the official proclamations of goodwill and cooperation between the Guards and the points are well enough for the aristocracy, but the people who matter—the shopkeepers and tradeswomen of the city—need a more personal demonstration. Word will get out. He leads Rathe away from the busy central area, and Rather smiles when he realizes where they’re heading.

“Someone you wanted me to meet, eh? I should have known that someone would be a horse,” Rathe says.

“He’s my most important colleague,” Eslingen replies. The young groom outside the stable door leaps to her feet as they approach, and he waves a hand to dismiss her. “No, Chareijs, don’t get up. We’re just visiting,” he says, and she sits again, picking up the piece of tack she’d been repairing. He might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees an expression of relief pass over her face: Chareijs is good with horses, Seidos strong in her stars, but King of Thieves is a handful even on the best days.

Eslingen can hear King of Thieves banging his hoof against the stall door as they enter the stables, excited by the sound of Eslingen’s voice, and he hurries down the passage, dropping Rathe’s arm. When he reaches the stall he takes a moment to assess the horse’s mood—alert, curious, a little bored—before moving forward to greet him. King of Thieves immediately puts his head down to sniff a Eslingen’s pockets for treats, and Eslingen laughs, pulling out the bits of apple had stashed away. A little bribery never goes amiss. “Shameless beggar,” he tells King of Thieves, who crunches his apple, unrepentant. “Come say hello,” Eslingen says to Rathe. “He won’t bite. Probably.”

Rathe has hung back, but now he steps forward, offering his hand to King of Thieves to sniff. “We’ve met before, you know,” he says. King of Thieves, having ascertained that more apples are not forthcoming, turns his head to eye Rathe speculatively. “At the races.”

“True, but you haven’t met him in his professional capacity,” Eslingen says.

“Fair enough,” Rathe says. Slowly, so King of Thieves can see, he reaches out and strokes the horse’s neck. “Adjunct Point Rathe, of Point of Dreams,” he says, in what Eslingen recognizes as his best official voice. “Looking forward to continued cooperation and collaboration between our organizations.”

Eslingen snickers, and King of Thieves’ ears go back. “Nico—” Eslingen says in warning, but Rathe pulls his hand back just as King of Thieves takes a snap at his sleeve.

“I see the City Guard is not as committed to this relationship as the points,” Rathe says, inspecting his coat: a small tear, just at the elbow, but no broken skin.

“Call the point, pointsman,” Eslingen says.

“Just this once, I’ll let it pass,” Rathe replies. “In the spirit of collaboration.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I don't know a damn thing about horses except what I've googled. My apologies for any mistakes or inaccuracies.
> 
> 2\. I didn't tag this as Rathe/Eslingen because that relationship wasn't the focus of this fic, but let me know if you think I should change it.
> 
> Happy Yuletide!


End file.
